Squirrel
When I was 15 I became a vegitarian even though I only ever really ate meat, beans and spuds prior up to that point. I converted on the principle that I loved animals even though the only animal we'd ever had in the family haemoragged on my bean bag when I was 10.

Twas my mothers refusal to have another pet that drove me so I think - get a pet that I could love, cherish and talk to on long country walks or cook me a separate meal every night and deal with double the pans to wash.

Although given the fact that my particular non-veggie tastes led to a diet of quorn burgers and baked beans it was a weak, easy to prepare, although pungent protest.

Thusly I farted my way through the next two years and onto the prospect of learning to drive.

Now, I'm crap with machinery. I have trouble with zips and bra straos FFS. I even have trouble spelling straps when the word bra preceeds it. So I knew I'd be crap at driving as it simply requires too many things at too many times with too many other things I could be looking at.

Not least because I also ran or cycled everywhere that I ever needed to be, like forrest gump growing up in a hamlet, and I'd get a lift of my older mates to everywhere that was desirable to be and with the added bonus I could get pissed. So I never really bothered. Driving was for those with nothing better to do with much better things they'd needed to find.

Dad tried though, and one sunday he coerced me out on the promise that I may get a car..At least it'd be another place to sit and stare thought I.

It was a simple 5 mile curcuit of the country lanes at near where I live. I'd ran them many times and knew them well.

All was well and I was on the 2 mile home stretch when lo! a squirrel ran out in and sat in the road about 150 ft away.

Feck, I was trundling towards it at the ungodly speed of 20mph.

I must avoid it! so I turned the wheel and we start veering into the hedgerow.

What the fuck are you doing? says dad grasping the wheel to the opposite direction of mine.

Squirrel! says I turning harder and this began a father and son battle akin to the uncut scenes in return of the jedi.

You're going to fucking kill us! says dad pushing more fervently

Squirrel!

Sod the bloody squirrel - LET GO!

Squirrel! Dad! No!

Fuck the bloo *bump* dy squirrel

Dad! NOOO!

It had lasted a good half an hour.

I looked in the mirror as I swerved the next 200 metres engaged in this battle of wills.

STOP THE CAR.

GET OUT. I'm DRIVING

and so he did. I tried to reason that our lives were worth sacrificing in order to save the squirrel's. Dad disagreed. It was mum's car.

Once at home I went into a teenage huff and blundered up the stairs swearing that I'd never learn to drive again.

'I want some crisps' said I, a good hour later.

'They're in the garage' said mum.

I, of course knew this already but it was part of my plan. So, I unhitched the lock, closed the garage door and ran back to the scene of the murder, having grabbed a trowel on the way through.

I ran the two miles, praying for forgiveness between breaths for destroying an innocent life and then I reached the spot.

It took me a good hour to find all of the parts, particularly the teeth. I buried it in the t-shirt I had on, as I'd brought a spare, expecting this. As I threw the last bits of soil on and stamped the turf down I said the lords prayer and vowed never to drive again.

Then I walked home.

Years later, after uni I got a job and still I refused to learn to drive.

My veggie leanining had weakened but I still wasn't a big fan of eating meat. I love beans and all the sauces they are preserved in and what's the point in animals suffering when it wasn't to my taste?

Then at the age of 25 I was reunited with a former high school sweetheart and she enjoyed scoffing meat and loved going like the clappers. Thus ended my veggie, non-driving days.

length? two years and now all I'm left with is my squirrel tale and a long lost passion for storing up my nuts.
(Heyzeus, Thu 6 Dec 2007, 23:41, 1 reply)

Worms, snails, electricity and THINGS.
*This real story is accidental in the FACT* that it was carried out under controlled conditions on the grounds of siences.

When we were younger, me and a mate thought it would be both a source of mirth and interesting in the realms of siences* to go hunting for small garden creatures, being as in the title, worms and snails.

The unfortunate creatures were rounded up in a bucket, and masterfully carted off to Matt's garage, located at the bottom of his garden.

Now, the garage was secluded enough so that if Matt's Dad came trundling down, we had time to **put things away**.

Now, being young of age (12 ish if my brain remembers) we were full of childish experimentation, and decided to see what would happen if we wired the poor fuckers up to the national grid.

Yes, ladies and gents, we took an extension lead, whipped off the socket end, and wrapped the live and neutral around said worms and watched in amazement as when power was applied, we would have a disgraceful miniature version of old sparky, but without the chair.

Pop, BANG and fizzle went the worms, but on most occaisions, they would just sizzle and turn rock hard.

Boring.

However, snails were slightly more interesting. You see, the shell seemed to contain the fizzy 240V AC and boiled the poor bastards from the insides, and cause miniature explosions. POW! BANG! SPLAT!

But, of course, after a while, we get bored, and decide to gather up more of the creatures and put them into a fish tank. The fish tank still had gravel, and we indeed did a VERY SILLY THING.

Petrol, the contents of a old chemistry set and the liquids from bottles from your average garage were bunged into this tank, and the creatures were tipped in. They seemed to enjoy swimming / crawling around in this toxic chemical sludge we had created, and we had a brain wave!

LETS CONNECT THE POWER!!

Now, as all good siences people know, electricity and liquid generally doesn't mix, and when we connected the power, there was occasional pops and fizzles as a worm or snail managed to crawl over the bare wires. This unfortunately also cooks them, and we had a mini explosion as the vapours kind of popped, a whoosh was emitted, and a small fire ensued. Luckily also, the 13A fuse had decided on the grounds of safety to blow, and save us from fire/electrocution/mutant creatures.

This also caused a rather strange fog to be formed, which rolled over the top of the tank, and hugged the floor. The fire was no more, but the tank had cracked, and the front of it dropped and shattered. Me and Matt look at each other in the kind of "oh shit we are in trouble look" and look around something to clean the mess up with.

Only problem was, was that this chemical fog was still kind of hugging the floor, and the undead (or rather, lucky) snails or worms were happily wiggling their way through it.

Cue disbelief, ARRRRGGGHHHHSSS and "mutant snails / worms" coming to pay revenge.

Nope, they were just doing as their little invertebrate brains were designed to do best, and wiggle around looking for dead vegetation to devour.

Needless to say, we did have a few moments of terror as we had thought we had somehow created toxic chemical soaked garden things, and they were out for BLOOD.

Our BLOOD.

Happily, these moments passed, and we ignored the little blighters as we cleaned up broken tank and fucked it off in the dustbin.

Still to this day, I cannot tread on a snail or chop a worm in two with a garden spade. I treat them with respect, in the hope the the love and encouragement I give them now will prevent a horde of worms and snails in Hell wiring me up to old sparky for their own peculiar source of entertainment.

Length? Average worm, extended, 6.5 inches. o_O

*FACT : May not contain 100% regarding Accidental and Siences. May contain traces of childish evilness.
( Tesco Quality 60.825659, -0.788337, Thu 6 Dec 2007, 23:36, 2 replies)

lasercat
i used to live in a high-rise block that had a large family of feral cats living in the bushes round the back. there were always cats in the street, anytime, day or night.
one night, my friend brough his new laser pointer to show me. after messing around with it for a while, i shone it out of the window at the car park. as it was night-time, you could easily see the laser's red dot on the concrete floor.
so could the cat that was in the car park.
it decided to chase the dot, much like a cat will try to catch the light reflected off a mirror onto a wall. we played with kitty for about ten minutes, getting it to chase this dot all over the car park. then, without realising it, i shone the dot low down on the wall at the back of the car park.
either the cat was having too much fun or just didn't see it, but it ran full tilt into that wall.
i laughed like fuck for about 30 seconds, then realised just how cruel it was. i still feel guilty about it now.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Thu 6 Dec 2007, 23:35, Reply)

Accidental gerbil harmage
I used to have a gerbil. It was allowed to run freely around the living room carpet. When I wanted to retrieve it, I grabbed the tail, etc.
One time, my brother grabbed the tail, and it came off!! I 'll never forget the image of him holding the tail up with a look of WTF on his face.
Later on, when I inspect the gerbil in his cage, he was also holding the remains of his tail in his paw, also with a look of WTF on his face!
(Nibi, Thu 6 Dec 2007, 23:23, Reply)

Hamster + Pen = Death
When I was about 7 years old I had a pet hamster, Humperdink. My best friend at the time also had a hamster.
My friend's hamster was all a silvery-grey colour while Humperdink was half silvery-grey and half white.
This was very disappointing, as an all silver hamster was obviously far cooler looking.
So,
I decided that Humperdink would somehow become an all silver hamster too.
I 'borrowed' my sisters silver glitter-pen and spent ages colouring in all of Humperdinks white bits.
He looked awesome! Not only was he all silver, but bits of him sparkled when he caught the light!
I had the coolest hamster I'd ever met. Possibly the coolest hamster in the world!
Until the next morning when I woke up to find I had the deadest hamster I'd ever met ._.
( BUTT FART is currently addicted to Improbable Island, Thu 6 Dec 2007, 23:22, Reply)

Half accidental dog harmage.
A mate's dog ate 25 quid's worth of marijuana that was lying on the floor. He phoned the vet, he said it would be okay. It was stoned for the rest of it's life.
As if that wasn't enough, shortly after ingesting the marijuana, my mate flicked the dog on the testicles, and it leaptd in the air with a yowl!
(Nibi, Thu 6 Dec 2007, 23:18, Reply)

cat in washing machine.
Me and my brother were playing with the cat, he was putting it in the washing basket much to the displease of the cat and then he jokingly put it in the washing machine, and took it out. He left the room and I copied his actions and stuffed it in the machine, closed the door and set it on spin wash.
A ball of black fur went tumbling around, I frantically tried to open the door when I realised what I had done but in a panic I snapped the handle off, so poor kitty got spun around for about 5 minutes. luckily when my brother returned he ran and told mum, she was able to open the door and get the poor thing out, im happy to say it survived!
(bonzos, Thu 6 Dec 2007, 23:15, 1 reply)

My Girl Loves Me
I have a lurcher and a Rescue Greyhound Bitch called Kuri. She's a little bewildered by domestic life having had 5 years of kennels and racing. Anyway, here's my story.

Since I was 15 I've always had a hand towel by my bed. It comes in useful about once every 24 hours on average - put simply this towel has seen more spuff than the only prostitute in a Bulgarian village. Incidentally the towel was originally my grandma's.

Anyway, Kuri developed a fascination with said towel and went for it a few times. I always got it back off her until one day when the bedroom door was left open and she got in. I was distraught to see my orange wanking towel, torn to shreds outside my room. Bits of it were passing out of her for 3 days....

Subsequently she's eaten my spuffy tissues too.....
(neilfann www.betterthankids.com, Thu 6 Dec 2007, 22:52, 1 reply)

Feeding hamsters to the dog
Not entirely sure what possessed her, but my mum thought it would be a good idea to introduce our Russian (read very small) hamster to our bearded collie.

Beardies aren't the brightest of breeds, and so with the hamster sitting in mum's hand, the dog opens its mouth and clamps down over the mouse.

Mum clouts the dog on the nose, and the dog spits out the bewildered (but largely unharmed) mouse. Unsurprisingly, the mouse never fully recovered.

Almost as funny as the time we fed the dog space dust . . .
(the-chauffeur, Thu 6 Dec 2007, 22:38, 1 reply)

Oh yeah
When fishing for barbel one March, the river level was very low. I cast the luncheon meat bait downstream, it landed on a gravel bar and a duck got it before I could do anything. I can report that ducks fight about as hard as barbel when you're trying to rell them in, and make a lot more noise.

When we'd finally managed to catch and immobilise the well-pissed-off duck, the hook just fell out; it was only all the struggling (maintaining the tension on the line) that kept the hook lodged in its (very hard) beak.

You'd think all that would have scared the fish away, but I caught the year's club record barbel half an hour later :-)
(rogerzilla, Thu 6 Dec 2007, 22:25, Reply)

Gerbiloons! Well, hamsters actually.
If you put a drinking straw into a hamster's cage, it's more than likely it'll come and chew on the end. A gentle puff down the straw and their cheek pouches blow up like balloons. Absolutely hilarious when you're about 10, until you realise you're forcibly stretching the skin of their cheeks. Fortunately, I don't think I ever did it hard enough to cause damage.

Still, some of them deserved it. Especially the russian ones. The only way to get the little buggers out of the cage was to put your hand in and wait for the to latch on...
(goat thinks you're shit, Thu 6 Dec 2007, 22:24, Reply)

long dead mice
My 9 year old son kept mice for a little while. It was his responsibility to feed them and give them water. We'd check up on him at first, but he seemed to have the hang of it, so we slacked off.

Last December, we realised he hadn't fed them for rather a long time (although we'd been asking him we hadn't checked).

One of the mice had died, and the other two in their desperation had eaten its head. They were in a bad way themselves and didn't last much longer.

As it was nearly Christmas and we didn't fancy being asked for more mice, we decided to leave the tank up and hope he wouldn't notice it was empty.

Length? He didn't notice until March.
(teasus likes tea, Thu 6 Dec 2007, 22:22, Reply)

I trapped one of the cats
under the bath all evening. The stupid furry lump will sleep anywhere, so when I took the side panel off to check for leaks (there weren't any) she crawled in when I wasn't looking, and was duly sealed in her dusty tomb.

At bedtime we heard a plaintive meow, and after shaking a box of Go-Cat around the house we finally tracked her down.
(rogerzilla, Thu 6 Dec 2007, 22:21, Reply)

Chipmunk fishing!
As a child I used to take a pole and a string to make a crude fishing pole like Popeye would use, then tie a peanut to the end. I woud toss it out on the ground and wait for a chipmunk or a squirrel to come along and try to take it- and when they had it firmly stuffed in their mouth I would bring them back and lift the peanut up. The rodents were so stubborn that they'd hang on, little feet flailing about in the air, determined to hold onto that peanut even as I swung them back and forth like furry little pendulums... but after a couple of lift-offs, I'd always take pity on them and toss a few loose peanuts on the ground for them to take.

I demonstrated this to my cousin, and she thought it was hilarious. We took turns playing with the chipmunks... until one simply refused to let the peanut go.

I saw her having a tug-o-war with the little thing, its feet splayed out like a terrier, and her getting increasingly annoyed. I then saw her attempt to yank the peanut back out by whipping the pole around. And then I watched the chipmunk sail about thirty feet through the air and go face first into a very large hemlock tree.

The poor little bugger was stunned, but after a few minutes he was up and hobbling around, and finally bolted for cover when he was able to run. I figured that was the last I'd see of that particular chipmunk- I could identify him by his short tail- and went back to trying to lure the red squirrel who was nearby.

What I didn't figure on was how short a chipmunk's memory is...
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Thu 6 Dec 2007, 22:18, Reply)

Dog
I was taking a slash when my new puppy came loitering through the door and decided to investigate the stream of golden fluid emanating from my manhose. She stuck her little dogsnout right under the arcing stream, then whimpered and ran off.

She never did that again.
( krang, Thu 6 Dec 2007, 22:13, Reply)

Budgie mishap
When I was young, we had budgerigars for many years - two or three at a time, but when one died of old age, we'd get another to replace it.

One budgie met with a slightly less pleasant ending unfortunately - whilst my mum was cleaning out their cage, one escaped and made a bid for freedom, heading towards the open kitchen door.

My sister slammed the door closed to prevent its escape, but unfortunately the budgie had reached the door, and was about halfway through it.
(Photon wasting your time since, Thu 6 Dec 2007, 22:13, Reply)

flying voles!
Last year our landlord had some scrubby ground outside our house concreted over, and shortly afterwards I found a small family of voles looking a bit lost huddled outside our front door.

I decided to lift them over to the hedge, as they were a bit exposed and looked rather stunned, so I picked the first one up.

Of course a great big hand suddenly scooping you up is pretty scary for a vole, so it bit as hard as it could into my finger, and was dangling off by its teeth.

It really hurt so I tried to shake it off and it went flying through the air and landed with a nasty crunch. I then had to finish it off as it was broken in all sorts of places.

I left the rest to find their own bloody way to the hedge!

We now have cats, so no voles/mice etc survive within a 23 mile radius, and we often get to watch as our kittens bring them home and gradually bludgeon them to death.
Length? It takes them about 3/4 an hour to kill a small vole.
(teasus likes tea, Thu 6 Dec 2007, 22:13, Reply)

guineea pigs
my sister had a guninea pig thing and my uncles dog ate it
not funny but it happened
( SkUG >_O i got a couple of stitches in my eyeball... ow, Thu 6 Dec 2007, 22:01, Reply)

Oh, and before I forget.
My Hamster fell down the back of the wardrobe after getting out of it's cage.. I didn't notice for two weeks.
(kna has forgotten everything., Thu 6 Dec 2007, 21:58, Reply)

Once, when i was a kid.
I used to slide the guinnea pig down the table. It used to fall off the end. Lock me up!
( op op op op op I stink therfore I spam, Thu 6 Dec 2007, 21:57, Reply)

Flash Powerspray
(Or whatever it was called)

I was pissing about in front of my Wife going "Hah, I'm going to spray the cat in the face" dead convinced that the little rotating nozzle bit was set to "OFF". The kitty got right up close for a sniff as they're prone to do and I gave it a big squirt, expecting to easily be denied a jet of toxic household cleaner.

Unfortunately, it was set to on and I sprayed my fluffy little bundle with a face full of Pentasodium Triphosphate.

Cue much panicking and washing off of the face of an already seriously fucked off animal.

She still loves me though..
(kna has forgotten everything., Thu 6 Dec 2007, 21:56, Reply)

Cat daftness
One of my cats, Binki, is the friendliest, loveliest cat imaginable, but has a tendency to do stupid things. When we got her and her sister we let them sleep on the bed at night - they were usually fairly well behaved.

One particularly warm summer's night Binki decided that she'd much rather be on the very top shelf of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves which were right beside the bed. You can probably guess the rest.

Somehow a cat weighing at most a few pounds managed to simultaneously dislodge 30-40 books, which of course plummeted from the shelf onto my sleeping form. It being warm, I had elected to forgo duvet/pyjamas, and was therefore completely unprotected. My bellow of pain probably did nothing to calm Binki, who was at this point closely following the books and hit my back about a second later, claws out, running full pelt.

Somehow I managed to catapult the cat across the bed, across the room and into the wall, where she slid rather inelegantly to the floor. Amazingly she was fine - I had large gouges in my back for the next couple of weeks though.

Length? About 8-9 feet, in an almost flat trajectory.
(Photon wasting your time since, Thu 6 Dec 2007, 21:38, Reply)

Poor dog... errr....
A while back when I was about 10, I went to see one of those hypnotism shows by Paul MacKenna for my birthday.

Cue to half way through the show, when he hypnostises half a dozen people to go around doing weird things during the intermission.

One of the said people was given one of those dog leashes that make it look like you have an invisible dog, and obviously was hypnotised to think it was a real dog.

So in the intermisson, me, being the little shit I was, ran up to the guy and kicked the living shit out of the dog. I stopped when the entire audience not outside having a fag all go 'awwwww' at the same time.

The poor man who had been hypnotised was mortified, having just seen a child kick his foot through his dog like it wasn't even there.

Hypnotism scares me...
(TheGreatElvis, Thu 6 Dec 2007, 21:33, Reply)

I used my cat as a weapon...
I had a habit, in my youth, of using my sleeping bag as a weapon for beating my brother with. I'd fill it with all sort of crap (books, shoes, pots of playdough etc) and sort of swing it around my head yelling, and then charge at him, weiling my weapon in a savage like manner. However, one unfortunate afternoon, my cat had decided to bury itself into said sleeping bag and not only had crap hurled at it, but endured several trips swung around my head before connecting with my little brothers head. It's still alive though, bless it.

(The cat, obviously)
(thants, Thu 6 Dec 2007, 21:15, Reply)

Feline storage solutions
My now deceased aunt possessed:-

a - A ground floor council flat.
b - A cupboard.
c - A tabby called Billy.

At the time of which I write she regrettably no longer possessed a full set of marbles.

She understood that Billy needed to promenade outside the flat on a daily basis to discharge his greater and lesser bodily functions.

Increasingly, however, she failed to understand the critical distinction between the cupboard and the front door of the council flat.

Family and health visitors quickly learned that their first port of call at Auntie Vera's flat was the cupboard as Billy was regularly incarcerated therein.

Billy, fortuitously, was a cat of particularly patient and good natured aspect and quickly learned to adapt to his unusual storage arrangements.

Sadly as Vera's situation deteriorated Billy was presented to the second-hand cat shop. Twenty years ago and I still wonder how Billy got on with his new owners and any cupboards that they may have owned.
( The Disappointed Caravanner of the year, Thu 6 Dec 2007, 21:09, Reply)

Near LSD and Dog horror
If you ever manage to get hold of some acid on blotting paper (fat chance these days), whatever you do, DO NOT leave any out on a coffee table where a dog can have a good snuffle at the contents of said table and get one stuck to its snout!


I don't think it affected her but I was off my tits and could have swore she kept winking at me in my terror expecting her to go nuts...
(Mr G to you , Fathead, Thu 6 Dec 2007, 21:08, 2 replies)

I stood on a pigeon.
As much as I hate the little ratbastards, I did not mean to step on one.
I was walking through town and suddenly heard this sound, kind of like that sound when you crush your crisp sandwich.
I looked down and this pigeon looked back at me with a look of obvious disgust.
Luckily it managed to fly off (lucky for me not having to call the RSPCA, I knew there was nothing they could do) and so far I've not seen a pigeon flying in circles around Wakefield yet.

I guessed it was karma for when a pigeon shat on me (another story), but I do still feel a bit of shame.
(THIRTY-TWO - Sputnik -, Thu 6 Dec 2007, 21:08, Reply)

Remote control cat
For this, you will need;

- A cat
- A laser pointer
- A room with at least 2 exits

Now, I know what you're thinking. "A cat and a laser pointer? He'll have it's eye out. Or something."

Don't be so fucking PC, of course it won't y'daft prick.

What it DOES do is give you access to your very own Remote Control Cat. Simply aim the light a few feet in front of your cat. The cat will notice the red dot and sit transfixed for a moment or two.

Move the light around; instinct takes over, and the cat will pursue. Pointlessly trying to capture a dot that is not there; not so smug and superior NOW are we, you bewhiskered miaowing tyrant!

The two exit minimum is so that, with the right positioning, you can have the cat running through 3 rooms chasing the dot.

And that is where the accidental cruelty came to the fore. Whilst playing with one of my cats in this manner, I had him hurtling round the house at that wall-of-death pace that only a cat indoors can manage for just over 20 minutes.

As I got the laser pointer ready for another round of quixotic chasing the cat looked at me, issued a cough that sounded like an effeminate Gollum, and collapsed onto the floor. Tongue lolling out, heaving rasping breathing. Eyes bright and panic-stricken, he looked like he was heaving his last breath.

He lay there for another 5 minutes, barely moving. Then he got up and sauntered over to his food bowl. The little shit couldn't have looked more insouciant if he was sipping on a martini.
(Light, Thu 6 Dec 2007, 20:58, 4 replies)

DON'T KNOW IF THIS COUNTS AS CRUELTY?
Ahhh those blissfull times back in the late 80's when I was still young enough to enjoy toys at christmas and not worry about your boss frothing at the mouth when you say you don't want to work over christmas. Anywho this is xmas aboot 1988 to 1989 and my brother is home for christmas from the airforce and along comes with him is his new 10 month old german shepard. Anyway all the frantic unwrapping of prezzies is done mum gets dressed up in her best chrimbo togs and said german shepard starts sniffing round her legs, Now this is a minor annoyance to my mum who shoos him away but he just returns cocks his leg and pisses on my mum (dirty bastard) cue much swearing and smacking of dog which then gets put in the shed. Anyway a couple of hours pass and the dog gets let back into the house skulking every where looking sheepish and scared any way we all thought the dog had learnt his lesson so we went off to enjoy our xmas din dins. Cue late evening and my mum changes out of her best togs and goes to put on her slippers and the dog has shit in them the sneaky bastard! he wasn't stupid that dog but he was stupid enough to have a fight with a land rover and loose a couple of years later. length: dunno they never measured the skid marks.
(robaloi reads the daily mail and eats pandas, Thu 6 Dec 2007, 20:53, 1 reply)